


Your Side Of The Bed

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel in the Bunker, Drinking to Cope, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s09e14 Captives, Romance, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first kiss was the easy part. Nobody told Dean how easy it was to stop fighting who he was and just … kiss … his angel. But nobody explained what was supposed to happen after Dean finally did something he couldn't take back. As it turned out, Castiel knew a lot more than he let on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Side Of The Bed

The first kiss was the easy part. Nobody told Dean how easy it was to stop fighting who he was and just ...  _kiss_ ... his angel.

Of course, it had occurred like a burst of fire, a volcanic eruption, the moment Castiel reappeared after they thought Metatron killed him. The war came to a head. Factions of angels managed to band together long enough under Castiel's leadership to take on that megalomaniac. Dean witnessed his angel get stabbed through the chest, and then Metatron took him away. Distraught, Dean paced the bunker all night, wringing his hands and swearing under his breath.

And then, there he was in the library doorway. Dean flew at him, so overcome by relief and a thousand other confused emotions, and he kissed Castiel as if they'd done it every day for his entire life. Just like that, everything changed. They couldn't take it back, and if Dean was really honest with himself, there was nothing that could have convinced him to undo it.

That was three days ago. A bit of awkwardness descended with so many unanswered questions in Dean's mind. Were they ...  _together_? Was it a stupid spur of the moment impulse that went awry? And what about Sam--how was he going to react when he found out what changed between them? How does a very mortal human being  _date_ an immortal wavelength of celestial intent? How does Dean Winchester commit to _anyone_? Yeah, his head pounded the more he realized what he got himself into by letting his emotions get the better of him.

Dean flopped on his back, the memory foam mattress welcoming him like an old friend. He tugged headphones over his head and closed his eyes. The headache wouldn't let him blast the music like he wanted but at least he could still sink into blissful nothingness.

Except, as Dean lay in bed, he couldn't find nothingness. He only found that moment replaying itself in his mind over and over again until his lips began to tingle as if they too refused to let it go. He jammed a hand under his head, irritated with that dreamy state of his brain. What was he--a friggin teenage girl? Get the fuck over it. He could have gone out to a bar right then and there and kissed a dozen chicks without even remembering what they looked like once he left them.

Yep. Kissing Castiel for the first time was the easy part. It was all the shit afterward that got way too hard. And fuck if he didn't want a bottle of Jack that night. That required driving all the way into town, though, and then Sam would definitely know something was up.

Air moved to Dean's left side--the subtle breeze of a body passing by. His eyes snapped open and he nearly reached for the hatchet on his nightstand until he recognized the slimmer, shorter appearance of Castiel's new trench coat. The angel's mouth moved but Dean only heard the music feeding through his ears. He yanked off his headphones and scooted up on the headboard.

"Hey, Cas," he stammered, always so startled when the angel appeared out of nowhere. "'Sup?"

"I attempted knocking on your door. Polite human convention doesn't quite work if you can't hear me," replied Castiel. He pointed to the nightstand. "Your bottle."

"What?" There stood a new bottle of Jack Daniels and a clean, empty glass next to his lamp. He chuckled as he leaned over and rubbed his eyes. "Cas, you gotta stop listening in on my thoughts."

"I wish I could. It's exasperating the way your thoughts spiral around in endless circles of doubt, mistrust, self-loathing, and entirely too much emphasis on what others think of your choices." It appeared that Castiel's brief dip in the humanity pool reminded him that maybe his honesty was a little too blunt sometimes. He subtly recoiled where he stood. "Your mind gets quieter and more bearable for both of us if you have a drink. I just wanted to help...."

"Can't you just, y'know, turn off my radio?" Regardless, Dean poured himself a glass.

"No, I can't. Not with you. I never could," he answered quietly. "Only when I was human."

The glass suspended at Dean's lips with the sudden realization that Castiel probably heard every sexually confused thought, every inappropriate dream, and worst of all, the vulnerability of missing him and quietly pining for him like a fucking sissy idiot. Dean felt his face grow hot with the flush of embarrassment just as Castiel made a terrible attempt at concealing an amused twitch of his lips. His blue eyes seemed lighter, in fact--not so hooded by the weight of solitude anymore.

"Okay, I get it. You know everything," Dean grumbled, and then threw back an entire glass. The liquor burned sharply down his throat.

"Dean...." The angel sighed, which was not something he did much in the past, and smoothed his jacket as he perched on the outermost edge of the bed. "The biggest thing I learned from my time as a human man was exactly how talented your kind is at overcomplicating every emotion and twisting it around until you don't know what it means anymore. The way the human soul fights the human brain is quite exhausting. I know that now. It's like being pulled in two opposite directions when you're uncertain of what to do or how you're  _supposed_ to feel. What I mean is ... I understand."

The hunter sat in silence. He should have known Castiel already deconstructed and analyzed everything that passed through his mind since they kissed. There really wasn't much he could say, so he poured himself a second drink.

"That fight between the soul and the brain in humans is fascinating," the angel continued. "The soul operates on a subconscious level making decisions that the brain isn't even aware of, yet those decisions are almost always what the human  _really_ needs. Without the logical brain cluttered with social customs or previous life experiences coloring each decision, it leaves the soul to act in the purest emotional need."

"Cas?"

His eyes focused again on Dean's face. "Yes?"

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Your soul already decided what you want. I'm simply waiting for your brain to arrive there as well," he said in his deep monotone. "In fact, your soul decided months ago."

"How you figure that?" Dean wasn't sure he liked the direction of the conversation.

A quick little smile smoothed Castiel's lips as he stood and rounded the end of the bed to the other side of the room. "You changed after we spent a night together in Idaho. Remember? I thought Nora had amorous interest in me but she really just needed a babysitter. After we left, we spent the rest of the night talking and eating in your motel room."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, a brow arched in confusion.

"You were sleeping in the middle of your bed before Idaho, like all amorously unattached humans do."

"So?"

Castiel's arm quickly unfurled over the vast empty space on the other side of Dean's bed. The gesture accompanied an obvious expression as if Dean should have picked up on it immediately.

"This nightstand wasn't here when you began living in this room either. When did you put it here?"

"...After Idaho..."

"Exactly." He smiled. Proudly. Castiel actually smiled like he was so fucking proud of himself for figuring Dean out before Dean even did. "As I said, Dean, the human soul knows what it wants before the brain does most of the time. You've been unconsciously readying your most personal space to share it with a companion."

"How do you know the companion I want is you? I could be wanting, y'know, a puppy or something. Or an iguana. That'd be cool as hell." A lot of insightful, beautiful things could have come out of Dean's mouth just then, but he went for a joke the way he always did when things got a little too real. He smirked, though it didn't match what probably shone through his green eyes.

Lines fanning from Castiel's eyes softened as his expression shifted to something more tender. He offered a thin smile, patient with Dean's bad jokes for once instead of taking everything in its most literal form.

"So, um..." Dean attempted, "...I guess, y'know, you're probably right. Or whatever. Hell, I dunno why I started moving things around. I really didn't think you were coming back."

The empty side of the bed sank with Castiel's weight as he sat down. "I always come back to you," he said, the simplicity and truth of it turning his low voice into a clear beacon. "We've died for each other, Dean. Being human was nothing that would have kept me away long. Really, though, being human was the factor that made it clear to me, where I belong."

Dean swallowed away the urge to cover his own exposed sentiments with more bad jokes. It was his way, but even he knew that wasn't the time. They had to be honest with each other instead of communicating in arbitrary signals without ever showing real intent. Exactly why it freaked Dean out so much to just say what he wanted had to be worked out another day. He could only tolerate one raw, exposed nerve in a night. It was a testament to the depth of his attachment to Castiel that he even wanted to try and make it work.

"I want you to stay," he mumbled nearly under his breath.

Cupping his hand around his ear, Castiel tilted forward. "What was that you said? I didn't quite--"

"--You heard me, Cas," retorted Dean with an eye roll.

"Yes, I did," he whispered, more serious.

A light smile seemed to shine right up to the reflection of blue in his eyes. His hopefulness hadn't been there before, Dean realized. The angel finally had something bright to look forward to in his future aside from leading garrisons into war, constantly trying to save the humanity that he loved so much, and breaking away from his siblings to be his own individual. Millions of years of  _surviving_ left no room for  _living_. They chose each other in a bid to  _live_ and the unknowns of what they could do with that left Dean both nervous and excited. There was something twisted about being afraid of happiness.

"You want your side of the bed, then?" Dean wondered quietly.

Lines crinkled, each telling a story in Castiel's face with his contented smile. "I waited a long time for it."


End file.
